Prelude Before Pummeling

There are times when I want to write, but real life circumstances prevent what I want from occurring as planed.  Before I get into that, a little strange, freaky treat that come from one of those coincidences that Arthur C. Clarke loved so much . . .

When Annie appeared at the Samhain dance she was rocking some aqua hair brought about by her own transformation hand.  Since I’ve based Annie off of a person chosen by someone else–and why change a good thing?–there are pictures of “Annie” found all over the Internet, including one where the person in question has, believe it or not, aqua hair–a picture I did not know existed today, and wouldn’t have known it was going to exist, because I knew she’d come to the dance as Sailor Neptune like a year ago.

Here is the picture:

At this point in Annie's life Kerry is finally taking her out to cons.

At this point in Annie’s life Kerry is taking her out to cons.

So there you go:  Annie with aqua hair, sporting a Fourth Doctor’s scarf, and generally wearing what she’d likely wear around the Salem School when the weather starts turning cold.  You’re welcome.

Now for the reason why I couldn’t write:  electrolysis.  Yes, the Demon Electric Probe was once against hard at work against my face, and it was doing one hell of a job zapping it up.  In fact I was about two hours and fifteen minutes in the chair, and there was a lot done–a lot.  I even got my eyebrows plucked as well, which hurt in a different kind of way, but there was still pain.

During the drive home I was barely able to smile because the entire lower half of my face was numb, and while it never throbbed, there was enough soreness to prevent me from doing anything worth while except sit around and kinda go, “Ouch.”

Oh, and get pictures. Behold the electrolysis-induced Resting Bitch Face.

Oh, and get pictures. Behold the electrolysis-induced Resting Bitch Face.

Sides of jaw, lips, chin:  all swollen and hurting.  Yeah, I was a bit of a mess, and I didn’t feel like writing–

Believe it or not I wrote something.

Call me crazy, but I hate not writing, even when I don’t feel like writing.  So I started the next scene.  Problem was, I was in pain, a friend popped up in Facebook and asked me to check something for her, and . . . well, my mind was wandering around the hinterlands by this time, mumbling “La, la, la” the whole time, because thinking was not a task I was handling well.

Still I managed all of the follow, believe it or not:


(All excerpts from The Foundation Chronicles, Book Two: B For Bewitching, copyright 2015 by Cassidy Frazee)

In a community where it was possible to kill another person with little more than a look and thought, the Founders of Salem needed a way that allowed for witches to resolved personal difference without resorting to indiscriminate mayhem and even murder. With these intentions in mind, Selena Malthus, Founder and First Leader of Mórrígan Coven, designed the first rules for magical martial combat, and became the first Mistress of Judgments.


There you are:  the start of the next scene.  It’s only seventy-one words–probably the shortest amount I’ve ever written and clocked in as “official”–but it’s a start.  It was also enough to pop the story up over one hundred and five thousand words, which means I’m still on track to do one hundred and ten thousand words by this time next week.  On top of which I added another scene . . .

The Rules? There are no rules in magical combat--are there?

The Rules? There are no rules in magical combat–are there?

Annie is all set to dispense some justice on behalf of Team Dark Witch.

All I gotta do is deal with the pain and write.